Part 8 (2/2)
Suddenly, Venetia saw it all. Miss Platt was serving as Mrs. Bloom's companion to repay the clutch-fisted old bat for getting poor Bertrand released from gaol. Of all the mean, uncharitable behavior! Mrs. Bloom had completely taken advantage of poor Miss Platt.
Venetia's father always said that charity was an act not counted in gold, but Venetia was certain Mrs. Bloom was doing just that. She probably thought she was doing Miss Platt and poor Bertrand a great favor, congratulating herself on her grand charity and reminding poor Miss Platt a thousand times a day of how much she ”owed” her benefactress.
Venetia squeezed Miss Platt's hand. ”I don't wish to say anything untoward, but there are other ways to find funds than selling yourself into servitude.”
Miss Platt blinked. ”What other ways?”
”Well...there is...I mean, surely you could...” Venetia bit her lip. ”I don't know right now, but I am certain I will think of something.” At Miss Platt's fallen expression, Venetia said earnestly, ”You must have hope. Surely you don't see yourself serving as a companion for Mrs. Bloom all of your days.”
”Well, no-I suppose not. I hadn't really thought of it. Except, of course, in my dreams. But that is another matter altogether.”
”Your dreams?” Venetia smiled a little at that. ”What do you dream?”
Miss Platt couldn't turn any redder. She waved an agitated hand. ”Nothing, really. I-I just sometimes daydream. Mrs. Bloom says I'm perfectly useless when I do so, though I can't help but wonder...never mind.”
”No, no! What were you going to say?”
”I shouldn't be so silly. Mrs. Bloom says one must face realities, but sometimes it is so lovely to dream.”
”I don't care what Mrs. Bloom says! Tell me about your dreams! Please?”
”I-I suppose it won't hurt.” Miss Platt said in a low voice, ”One day, I would like to get married.”
Venetia nodded encouragingly. ”And?”
Miss Platt blinked. ”And...that's all. I would just like to get married.”
”Oh.”
Miss Platt blushed. ”It's a silly dream, isn't it? And not very likely to happen.”
”I wouldn't say that,” Venetia said bracingly.
”No. For me, it's a dream and nothing else. I'm not like you, Miss West. I don't have a beau like Lord MacLean.”
”MacLean? He's not my beau!” He was a thorn in her side, a pain in her- ”But you two seem so familiar with each other.”
”We are. I've known Gregor MacLean since I was five.”
”Oh! So you are more like brother and sister!”
”We are just friends. Nothing more.”
”I thought he told Mrs. Bloom he was your guardian.”
”He's my guardian and friend. But that is all.” Venetia could see the woman's brow furrow as she considered something. ”Miss Platt, what is it?” ”I was just thinking. Miss West, do you think-” She winced, then shook her head. ”I'm sorry. I'
m just being silly.”
”Silly? Why do you think that?”
”My father always said that one should know one's place in life and not live above, for there was naught but heartache on that path.”
”Of all the horrid things to say!”
Miss Platt blinked. ”It was?”
”Absolutely. There is no telling where you might find yourself, if you will only take a few chances.
Stop letting life and other people dictate who you are, and tell them instead!”
”Chances?” Miss Platt looked positively amazed. ”You think it's good to take chances?”
”Of course! I take them all the time, and they always work out.” Venetia thought for a moment.
”Well, most of the time.” Miss Platt stood, eyes wide, blinking slowly. Then, in an awed voice, she said, ”I love taking chances. And I used to, but Mrs. Bloom always says-”
”Forget about Mrs. Bloom! What about you? What chances do you wish to take?”
”Oh, Miss West, there are so many! I should like to learn how to flirt and how to attract a gentleman. A real gentleman like Lord MacLean!”
Venetia's smile faded, an odd sense of alarm pressing against her. ”You wish to learn to flirt? With Gregor?”
”Or someone else. I'd like to learn to flirt and then marry. It's the only way I might catch a man.” Miss Platt pressed her hands to her cheeks, a sublime look upon her thin face. ”I should like to marry a gentleman with a t.i.tle and money, and he would have to be handsome, too, of course! And have a lovely house. And horses. Servants. At least one carriage, maybe two.” Miss Platt giggled, her face alight. ”In fact, you are right. I should like to marry someone like Lord MacLean.”
”But...” Venetia said blankly.
Miss Platt clasped her hands beneath her chin and closed her eyes. ”He is the handsomest man I' ve ever met.”
And the most arrogant.
Miss Platt dropped her clasped hands to her lap, her bright blue gaze on Venetia's face. ”Miss West, do you think that a gentleman like Lord MacLean might be interested in someone like me?”
Venetia looked at Miss Platt, with her flat chest and too-large feet and hunched shoulders, at the lank, mousy brown hair and the hooked nose over the too-thin lips. Venetia then thought of Gregor, with his savage male beauty that was defined by the rapier-thin scar down his face. The scar began above his eyebrow, skipped his eye, and continued in a pale slash down his cheek. But his disfigurement hadn't dampened the enthusiasm of the women of London. It seemed to enflame them all the more, adding an element of exotic danger to an already heart-stirringly handsome man.
Venetia had seen woman after woman throw herself at Gregor, which was why her heart sank at Miss Platt's hopeful tone.
As she opened her mouth to reply, Mrs. Bloom's shrill voice rang out. ”Miss Platt!”
Miss Platt started. ”Oh, dear! I must go!” She gave an awkward curtsey, and scurried to the door. ”I don't know why they didn't bring hot water this morning, but Mrs. Bloom won't rest until she gets it.” She paused at the door, smiling shyly. ”Thank you for speaking with me, Miss West. I don't know if I can ever do what you suggest, but-”
”Of course you can!” Venetia said, banis.h.i.+ng her uneasy thoughts. ”And you should be aware that there are far better men than Gregor MacLean.”
Miss Platt shook her head. ”I can't imagine!”
Venetia gave Miss Platt a bracing smile. ”Just wait until you reach London and spend a little time amongst civilized society. There are many men far more charming.”
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